


Ill Met By Moonlight

by umakoo



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Skyrim Fusion, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Come Inflation, Creature Fic, Knotting, M/M, pseudo-bestiality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 05:27:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8433505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umakoo/pseuds/umakoo
Summary: Werewolf AU/Skyrim fusion for Halloween! Loki is a novice mage, Thor is a werewolf. Loki has ventured out during Blood Moon for some potent alchemy ingredients when he runs into a Big Bad Werewolf in the woods.





	

**Warnings: creature sex/pseudo-bestiality (Thor keeps his wolf form), knotting, dub-con (Loki does eventually consent), come inflation.**

 

 

The entrance to Bloated Man’s Grotto yawned before Loki like a black abyss. A dank breeze from the cave mouth whipped his loosely braided hair about his face as he stepped inside, but the tunnel was short and Loki found himself in a small glade before his eyes could even adjust to the dark around him. The ancient fir trees that grew all around the grotto creaked as they swayed in the gentle night wind, the sound like a language long since forgotten. The moon behind them was a giant red sphere that spoke of ill omens and sent the superstitious peasants at every farmstead praying for their crops and cattle. It was a full moon. A Blood Moon.

 

Loki had left the safety of his cabin on the outskirts of Falkreath as soon as his master had retired to bed, but his journey through the woodland trails had been hindered by a group of bandits and a shady skooma dealer who’d cornered him outside the old mill by the lake, threatening to slit Loki’s throat when he’d brought up the illegality of such a business. He’d always been skilled with words and he’d managed to talk his way out of a potentially nasty situation, persuading the skooma dealer to go and find someone who’d be foolish enough to fall for his scams. The cutthroats, however, would heed no honeyed words and Loki was forced to venture deeper into the forest to keep away from their sights, the detour through thickets and hilly terrain slowing him down considerably. It was close to witching hour and Loki was glad he had reached the grotto before the moon could set.

 

The small forest around him was painted an eerie red by the moon, the campfire by the entrance cold and filled with old, charred wood. Loki poked at the remains with the tip of his boot and watched the wood crumble into dry ash. It appeared the grotto hadn’t seen visitors for some time, and sure enough, most sensible folk locked their doors and closed the shutters on their windows during Blood Moon. Loki was as sensible as anyone, but he was also ambitious and eager to reach his goals, and he knew the Nirnroot he’d collect tonight would make for a potent alchemy ingredient.

 

He tightened his robes around his shoulders and ventured deeper into the grotto, past the ancient statue of Talos where it guarded the shrine the Nords in the area had built in his honor, caught in an endless battle with the giant serpent coiling at its feet. He did not know where the place got its unusual name, but he'd heard the grotto was favored by many hunters who wished to track down rare game, and Loki made sure to look where he set his foot, for there could be hidden snares and bear traps in the shrubbery.

 

He climbed over a large fallen tree trunk, the wood soft and rotting under his palms, and followed the small brook that ran through the grotto until his ears began to pick up the strange, hypnotic hum of the root he was after. His mouth split into a pleased grin when he came upon a small clearing and saw the brook grow into a murky pool, for the banks were lit with the pale glow of dozens of Nirnroot plants, their leaves luminous in the moonlight. Loki reached into his satchel and pulled out a small pocket knife. He drew it from its leather sheath and brushed the long hem of his robes aside as he knelt on the mossy bank, cutting the roots by their stems and dropping them in the small wicker basket he’d brought with him.

 

He crouched over the pool, his own pale face and the tall trees around him reflected in the water. The wood around him was quiet, the steady hum from the roots the only sound in the grotto. Loki thought it odd, expecting the occasional hoot of an owl or the screech of a bat, but he counted the silence as a blessing, for he had no desire to run into a nettled spriggan or even worse, a hagraven. He reached into the shallow water to pull at the Nirnroot before him, but his hand froze around the leaves as his eyes caught something in the reflection.

 

A dark, looming shadow covered the red shape of the moon where it hung between rocky hillocks.

 

Loki spun around and felt his blood chill, as if someone had hit him with a frostbite spell square in the chest. Up on the hill stood a massive werewolf, the glowing yellow lamps of its eyes trained on Loki, pinning him down with its gaze. Thrice the size of a regular wolf, the creature stood on two legs, its elongated arms hanging by its muscled torso, the sight of the sharp claws at the end of each tapered finger drawing a quiet mewl from Loki’s lips.

 

He’d never seen a lycanthrope, but Loki had heard stories of such creatures at the inn, told by traveling warriors and guests from the nearby villages and holds. There were rumors of a strange underground circle in Whiterun, hushed whispers of individuals among the brave warriors of Jorrvaskr that had invited the curse upon themselves by drinking the blood of one of their own to assume the shape of the Beast willingly.

 

Loki gaped at the wolf before him, its hunched form and heaving shoulders speaking of imminent threat. The beast stretched its neck towards the night sky and let out a blood-chilling howl that morphed into a deep, guttural growl.

 

It snapped its luminous gaze back on Loki and pounced.

 

The basket of Nirnroot leaves fell into the pool as Loki scrambled to his feet and began to run. His heart raced in his chest and he felt his cheeks flush and burn with the rush of adrenaline that pumped through his veins as he tried to escape his pursuer. There were only a handful of paths he could take in the small grotto and the creature on his tail seemed to know each and every one of them. The thing moved on all fours now, the strength in its powerful limbs allowing the beast to climb and jump over every obstacle in its path.

 

Loki raised his hand to shoot small balls of fire over his shoulder, but the spells hit the trees and thickets and before he even knew it, his magicka had drained and fizzled out into a mere spark. He had no potion of potency or anything that would replenish his reserves and he cursed himself for heading into the night so ill prepared. He glanced over his shoulder just in time to see the wolf bounce up onto a tall rock formation and then it disappeared, as if the stone itself had swallowed its hulking form. Loki slowed down and came to a clumsy halt. His eyes darted around the pathway, his chest heaving with his frantic breaths, but there was no sign of the creature, not a sound or a shadow. His throat bobbed with his nervous swallows and he was distantly aware of the taste of iron on his tongue. Had he bitten his cheek?

 

Every strand of hair on his body stood on end as he continued to make his way towards the small campsite at the entrance of the grotto. He knew he should just run, get out as fast as he could, but his feet refused to heed the command of his mind and so he was forced to move like a limping old man, dragging one foot in front of the other. The wood around him was completely still, the pregnant silence in the grotto pressing on him like a physical weight. He knew he was being watched, the creature’s lupine stare following his every move from somewhere nearby.

 

Loki felt himself tremble as hot tears began to stream down his cheeks, a choked whimper spilling from his lips as he forced himself to move. “Please, Stendar, Mara, Julianos and all the Nine, keep it away from me, let me be spared,” he sobbed.

 

The candles around the shrine of Talos were lit, bewitched to burn with an eternal flame and offering a false sense of security as Loki passed the statue’s stony form. The war god had never held a special spot in his heart, but Loki craned his neck up and sent a silent prayer to the statue made in his likeness, trying to absorb some much-needed courage from the shrine.

 

The answer to his plea came in the form of a deep, bone-chilling growl. Loki wheeled around and watched with horror-struck eyes as the beast reappeared, crawling over a tall pillar of stone high above Loki’s head. Its long snout parted to reveal a horrifying row of sharp, yellow teeth, the long canines exposed in a hungry snarl.

 

Loki burst into a run, but his left foot landed on the hem of his long robes and he went flying down, his mouth filling with pine needles and dust as he landed on his face. The ground below him trembled as the wolf jumped down from its high perch, landing with a heavy thud in a sea of ferns and evergreens.

 

“Please, no…” Loki cried out as the beast began to stalk towards him, its scruffy back arched into a predatory bow, sharp claws clenching and unclenching next to its hairy thighs. “Please, if these are your lands, I- I promise I’ll leave and I’ll never return!”

 

Loki crawled back like a pathetic little child, his eyes blurry with unshed tears, pleading words falling on deaf ears as the beast continued to draw closer. It sniffed at the air, its snout trembling, a large pink tongue lolling out of its mouth. Loki became aware of the wet trickle on his cheek and neck, and reaching up, he realized there was a shallow cut on his cheek, the tips of his fingers red and sticky with blood. The scent of it sent the beast into a frenzy. Its eyes flashed in the moonlight and the bushy tail between its legs cut the air as it wagged with what could only be excitement over Loki’s impending death. And he was going to die, for there was no escape.

 

Loki curled up into a tiny ball as he saw the wolf charge at him. He squeezed his eyes shut, his skin crawling as he waited for the sharp claws to slash him open, but the attack never came. Instead, there was a pathetic yelp, high-pitched and so full of pain that Loki glanced up from the folds of his sleeve. His heart jumped as another loud wail pierced the air, the sound of it unlike anything Loki had heard before, still terrifyingly bestial but so human that Loki was suddenly reminded there was a person within the bloodthirsty predator.

 

He sat up when he realized the wolf had slumped down into the ferns, its shoulders drawn towards its long, pointed ears where they lay flat against its scalp. It appeared to be tugging on its right leg, its clawed hands pawing at something around its ankle. Loki’s mouth curved up in a tentative smile, a wave of relief washing over him when he saw the beast was caught in something, likely one of the bear traps the hunters hid in the undergrowth all around the grotto.

 

Loki scrambled to his feet, the smile on his face growing as he realized his life had been spared, for there was no possible way the creature could release itself from the trap without aid. He turned his gaze to the starry canvas above him and sent a thought of gratitude to all the Nine, for one of the divines had heard his prayer after all.

 

The beast continued to whine as it tugged on its leg, its body trembling with pain. Loki watched it with wary eyes as he brushed dirt from his robes and the wolf met his eyes across the small distance. The gaze in the yellow dots was dim now, the savage glow of the hunt driven away by the bite of the bear trap around its ankle.

 

It let out a pathetic whine, its gaze still fixed on Loki, the look in the lupine eyes almost imploring. Loki shook his head. “No, absolutely not.” By the Divines! This creature had just attempted to kill him. There was no way Loki was going to feel sorry for it!

 

The wolf continued to whine, one of its sharply clawed hands reaching out towards Loki in a wordless plea. Loki squeezed his eyes shut at the bloom of sympathy in his heart. There was something terribly human in the low whines that reminded Loki of the true nature of the creature. He had no idea how sentient an average lycanthrope might be, how cruel it would be of Loki to leave it to its fate. Would there be a man in the trap come morning, naked and bleeding to a slow and agonizing death?

 

Loki exhaled a trembling breath as he turned his eyes on the creature once more. "I must be out of my mind..." He reached into his satchel and fumbled for his knife, but his hands came back empty and he realized he must have dropped it by the pool when the chase began. “Great…” Loki squared his shoulders and fixed the wolf with a stern look even as his stomach continued to turn with barely contained terror. “I don’t know if you can understand me,” he began, taking slow steps toward the trapped wolf, “I can free you, but know that if you harm me, I will leave you to die and rot in that trap.”

 

He paused while he was still a safe distance away from the beast, watching it for any sign that his words had penetrated through the bestial part of its mind. The wolf stared at him with subdued eyes, its tongue lolling against the side of its bottom jaw as it continued to pant heavily, its whole form defeated.

 

Loki continued to approach it with slow, hesitant steps, but the wolf made no attempt to attack him, curling one giant paw against its chest in what Loki hoped was a gesture of submission. He crouched next to the beast, his eyes never leaving its fanged mouth or the sharp claws. It was massive up close and Loki had no doubt that the man within would be equally impressive in size. Most of its torso was hairless, the skin dark grey were it stretched around bulging muscles, but the arms and the powerful thighs were covered in a blanket of coarse, black fur. The scruff around its head was like a wild mane, the two elongated ears that poked out from the mass of hair lifting up a little as the wolf met Loki’s uncertain gaze.

 

“Please, don’t hurt me,” Loki whispered as he summoned what little courage was left in his heart to reach down into the ferns.

 

The wolf let out another low whine, but the sound turned into a startled snarl when Loki parted the ferns and laid his hands on its ankle. Loki’s eyes snapped up and he saw the wolf had bared its canines. He withdrew his hand and arched one brow, watching the sharp teeth disappear behind rubbery flesh as the wolf forced itself to remain still.

 

Convinced he was in no imminent danger, Loki turned his attention on the trap. It was rusted with age and exposure to elements, but the teeth buried in the lycanthrope’s leg had lost none of their bite. “Whoever laid this out here must have done so years ago,” Loki observed. He was no hunter and his knowledge of traps was non-existent, but he could guess there would be some sort of mechanism to release the jaws. “Ah, there we are,” he grinned when his eyes landed on a round plate and a long bolt on the bottom of the trap. “If I press on that lever and pull on this bolt here, the trap will come open.”

 

The wolf let out what sounded like an impatient grunt, its warm breaths puffing against Loki’s neck. He could feel it looming over him, its snout only inches away from his head, and he realized he had no escape plan should the wolf resume its pursuit once it was free from the trap.

 

Loki pulled his hand away from the bolt and turned to look at the beast with open suspicion. “Do I have your word that you’ll let me leave this place unharmed if I free you?”

 

The wolf regarded him with its strange, piercing eyes, its tail curving between its legs, ears pressed flat against its head. A look of submission and the only answer Loki was likely to get.

 

“Oh yes, I truly must be out of my mind,” he hissed, reaching for the release mechanism on the trap.

 

The jaws came undone, but the rusty teeth remained buried in the wolf’s flesh. It tugged on its leg and let out an anxious snarl as it realized it remained trapped. Loki watched it reach down with its large paws, but the long, bony claws that protruded from its fingers prevented it from getting a proper grip.

 

“Here, let me do that,” Loki said, taken aback by the hint of softness he heard in his voice. He wrapped his slender hands around the iron trap and began to pry the teeth out of the grey flesh, startling when the wolf jolted and howled with the sudden flash of pain. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s almost done!” Loki cried out, panic blooming in his chest as the beast began to thrash and snarl. “Stay still, you hairy oaf! You’ll only hurt yourself more!”

 

The teeth were lodged in deep, but they finally came free when Loki gave the metal jaws a strong yank. The force of his pull sent him rolling on his back and he blinked up at the flash of black fur as the wolf pulled its leg out and limped a few feet to the left to lap at the wounds. Loki watched it tend to its injuries, the fur around the mangled ankle matted and sticky with blood. Loki had only had lessons in destruction magic and restoration spells were not his forte, but he knew he had a roll of bandages and a bottle of healing potion in his satchel. He watched the wolf through the black curtain of his hair, his long braid half undone. The beast continued to lap at its bleeding ankle and the pathetic sight drew forth another surge of pity in Loki’s heart.

 

He got up to his feet and approached the injured wolf with his arms raised, balling his hands into fists when he saw the way they trembled. The creature lifted its head, the expression on its canine features uncertain. Loki reached into his satchel and pulled out the small bottle of healing potion, the precious liquid inside sloshing as he shook it in front of the beast’s suspicious eyes.

 

“I can help you with that if you let me.”

 

The wolf seemed to understand his intent, for it let out a soft huff and lay down on its side, pushing out its bleeding leg. Loki knelt in the ferns and settled the wolf’s leg across his knees. The weight of the single limb was so heavy that Loki could not help but shudder at the thought of being pinned down by the beast’s entire bulk. He traced his fingers over the cuts to examine them and his eyes grew wide as they landed on the hooked claws that protruded from the creature's long toes, the thought of even one such nail burying itself into his flesh making him shudder.

 

He uncorked the bottle of potion and held it up for the beast to see. “I’m going to pour this over the wounds now. It will sting a little,” he warned, waiting to see if his words had been understood. The wolf held still, its gaze fixed on Loki’s hands, but it made no move to stop him, and Loki tipped the bottle over until the healing concoction inside poured over the sluggishly bleeding wounds.

 

Loki’s eyes snapped up when he felt the foot in his lap jerk, and he saw the nostrils in the beast’s dark snout flare at the burn of the potion. It buried its claws into the damp ground and unrooted some of the ferns, but it kept its leg on Loki’s knees and Loki continued to pour the rest of the bottle’s contents over the wounds. The bleeding stopped almost instantly, the potent ingredients in the potion working to heal the skin around the gashes. Loki pulled out the roll of bandages and began to wrap them around the wolf’s leg with careful hands.

 

He could feel the creature’s gaze on him as he worked. He shivered at the sudden and intense scrutiny, but he kept his own gaze fixed on the bandages, wrapping the linen cloth around the ankle and tying the ends in a neat little knot.

 

The pained whines had ceased and Loki could sense there was suddenly a different source behind the wolf’s panting breaths. The beast yanked its leg away and the ground rustled as it pounced.

 

“Wait! You promised! You gave me your word-”

 

Loki found himself pinned to the ground, the wolf’s imposing form looming over him, its tail wagging slowly, predatorily, behind its back as if it had a life of its own. Loki felt his breath leave him in a quiet whimper when he looked into the wolf’s eyes and saw the dull look of pain was gone, replaced by familiar hunger. Of course it was, for how could a base beast know anything about honoring one’s word. Oh, what a fool he had been for thinking he’d be spared!

 

The wolf buried its claws in the soft earth right next to Loki’s head. Its legs were bent in a deep crouch, the long snout lowering to poke at the vulnerable curve of Loki’s neck, completely and utterly exposed. He trembled when he felt the wolf’s cold nose press against the tender spot of skin over his jugular. It sniffed at him and Loki cried out at the feel of its warm, coarse tongue as it poked out to lick over the throbbing vein on his neck.

 

“No…” A fresh trail of tears rolled down Loki’s cheek as he waited for the pain of the bite that was sure to come. The wolf would bury its teeth into his flesh any moment now, and Loki could only hope it would snap his neck, give him a quick death.

 

He shivered as he felt the wolf lick at the wet trail on his cheek, the salt of his tears mixing with the iron of his blood where the cut on his cheek continued to trickle. There was a sudden, deep grunt and a puff of moist breath on his cheek. Loki jolted when he realized the beast had tasted his blood.

 

The creature withdrew and Loki found himself pinned down by its piercing eyes as they stared at each other. “I saved your life,” Loki choked out, his shoulders shaking with his sobs and panicked, heaving breaths. “I released you and bandaged your wounds! The least you can do is not eat me, you ungrateful mutt!” he growled as the crippling fear gave way to a bout of indignant anger.

 

The wolf let out a quiet huff, the flesh around its mouth pulling back a little to reveal the familiar row of pointed teeth. Loki frowned, for he could swear the damn beast was grinning at him. It lowered its furry head down and continued to nose at Loki’s neck, its snout disappearing under the folds of his robe and the linen tunic he wore underneath. The sharp teeth at the front of its mouth grazed and nicked against the skin over Loki’s collarbones, but it was followed by the warm and unexpected caress of its tongue as it poked out to soothe the sting of the small nip.

 

What in the Nine was going on? Was his captor playing with its food before it ate him?

 

The beast continued to wag its long curving tail, the gesture now less predatory. It almost looked like the wolf was pleased and enjoying itself. It lowered itself to its knees, the massive muscles in its hairy thighs resting against Loki’s narrow waist, caging him under the heavy bulk of its body. There was a low grunt and Loki saw the beast hump the air, its powerful hips thrusting back and forth in an unmistakable manner.

 

“What…?” Loki lowered his gaze and followed the trail of fur on the creature’s muscled torso down to its groin, where something large and thick had begun to protrude from a thick sheath of black fur as it continued to hump the air. “Oh, Divines.” Loki’s mouth fell open in a silent cry as he realized the hunger he saw in the lupine gaze was not for his blood, but for his flesh.

 

He scrambled in the trampled ferns and managed to turn on his belly, his hands digging into the dirt as he attempted to get up, the thought of being sodomized by this creature urging him into action. He was barely up on his knees when he felt a pair of large hands on his body. One gripped his hip while the other splayed against his back and forced his chest against the ground.

 

“No, no, no!” Loki protested, the words nothing but choked nonsense as they spilled from his mouth. His heart pounded in his chest as he clawed at the ground, his hands wrapping around fern stems and tufts of grass, but he was trapped, the power in the beast’s hands immense.

 

The position forced his back into a bow and he knew his arse was in the perfect angle for a deep and thorough rutting. In the wolf’s animal brain Loki was likely presenting himself and inviting the creature to mount him, but there was nothing he could do to change his position, the grip on his hips too powerful to fight.

 

He managed to turn his head enough to see the wolf was crouched over his body, its eyes fixed on the long robe that served as the one last shield over Loki’s decency. It released its hold on his hip to lift the hem with clumsy fingers and Loki tried to use the wolf’s distraction to his advantage. He bucked his hips, but his breath caught in his throat and he froze when he felt something large and heavy brush against his lower back. He craned his neck, unable to do more than gape when he caught sight of the swollen arousal between the wolf’s hairy thighs.

 

Fully out of the protective sheath of fur, it was as red as the moon above their heads and much thicker than Loki had realized. Slightly tapered at the tip, but swelling around the root, the thing bobbed between two massive thighs, weighed down by its heavy girth and _ oh how could it ever fit…  _ The head was wet with strange viscous slick, a trail of it spilling down in a constant stream and dripping against the mossy earth. Loki gasped at the jolt of arousal the sight of the strange, bestial organ sent down his spine, a heady mixture of fear and lust pooling in his belly.

 

His brows pinched together in a confused frown. He couldn’t possibly want this, could he? Why was his body betraying him in such a horrific manner?

 

Loki tore his gaze away from the creature’s erection and buried his face in the fold of his sleeve as he tried to ignore the sickening burn of desire that had begun to lick at his loins. It had been so long since he’d been touched by another person, for most of his days were spent in the company of his elderly master, running his daily errands and assisting the old mage with his alchemy and enchanting. The inn in the town had never seen a steady stream of visitors, and most of those who stumbled into Falkreath were not interested in Loki’s company, preferring instead to spend their night in the warm embrace of a buxom maiden.

 

But even a lack of bedmates could not justify his current situation. He was no deviant! He should fight, struggle, resist, anything to get the rutting beast off his back before things went too far! The wolf had managed to push Loki’s robes up to expose the pale flesh of his back to its intrusive gaze and Loki felt his muscles stiffen when the tapered fingers scratched against his soft skin, the claws catching on the loosely fastened waist of his smallclothes.

 

He wanted to fight, but the feel of the thick, pointed nails pressing into his flesh served to remind Loki of his vulnerable position. He was nothing more than prey to this creature and he knew the wolf could snap his spine in a heartbeat. Loki bit his lip and trembled as the wolf yanked the sheer material of his undergarments down to his knees, the touch of its hand clumsy but effective. It let out a strange yip and Loki had no time to react when the beast had suddenly buried its muzzle between his arsecheeks.

 

“Ah! What are you-"

 

The wolf nosed at him, small excited gusts of air puffing out of its nostrils as it took in Loki’s scent. It kicked at the ground with its legs, its growing heat drawing out a low, throaty growl from its chest, the sound almost human. Loki’s mouth fell open at the thought, another lick of arousal blooming in his belly. He felt his prick twitch as it began to harden and he pretended he didn’t notice the way his thighs parted ever so slightly, his back arching as he offered his hole for closer inspection.

 

The beast grunted, a low, pleased sound, having no doubt noticed the shameful way Loki’s body was betraying him. It poked its snout between Loki’s thighs to nose at the slender length of his prick where it had begun to swell, the heavy weight of its hand lifting from Loki’s back as it caught scent of his arousal. Loki knew this was likely the best chance he would have to flee, the paw no longer restricting his movements. Shame colored his pale cheeks as he arched his back and parted his thighs even wider, no longer certain which of them was the beast as he invited himself to be mounted like some base creature.  

 

The wolf poked its tongue out and Loki squeezed his hand around a tuft of grass as he felt it press against his cock, lapping at the drops of arousal where they had begun to bead in the slit. It had no urge to please and it drew back the moment its curiosity had been sated, driven by the simple yet powerful need to breed like all animals. Loki startled at the sudden heat and weight of its large body as the wolf settled over him. It let out a series of low grunts as if it were trying to give Loki an order, one of its long arms finally wrapping around Loki’s torso to yank him up to his hands and knees when Loki failed to understand it. It swiped at the milky skin of Loki’s inner thighs, not hard enough to harm but enough to force Loki’s legs open, his cheeks parting with the movement.

 

The creature was so large that Loki’s head was buried in the thick scruff under its neck when it finally lowered itself over his back, ready to mount its willing prey. Its body radiated with heat, the feel of it strangely pleasant in the cool mists of the approaching dawn. It settled one of its paws over Loki’s hand where it was clutched around the grass. The knuckles were covered in hair, but the palm of the hand was smooth, the touch possessive.

 

It pressed its hips flush against Loki’s arse and Loki felt the creature shiver as its large erection slid against the smooth skin of his parted cleft. His own cock was so hard it ached and he was tempted to reach between his thighs and touch himself, but like all wild animals, the wolf above him was unpredictable and he feared he might be crushed should he take away the support of his arms.

 

His arousal was tempered slightly by the sudden realization that he'd had no preparation, nothing to ease the way. The wolf continued to rut against him, its powerful thrusts driving the air from Loki’s lungs, but it paused when it realized it hadn’t managed to breach its prey.

 

Loki heard the frustrated growl, felt it resonate against his shoulders where they were pressed against the wolf’s thick chest. It kicked and pawed at the ground as it doubled its efforts, the skin over Loki’s hole growing slicker and slicker every time the large organ slid through his cleft. He wondered if he might fool the wolf into spilling like this, and he was horrified to realize some depraved part of him craved the beast's penetration.

 

“Wait! Wait,” Loki gasped, waiting for the wolf to cease its rutting before reaching between his trembling thighs. “Let me… Let me help.” The creature panted as it waited to see what Loki was doing and it let out an excited snort the moment Loki reached for its heavy prick, guiding it to his hole. “There we go – Ah!”

 

Loki let out a choked moan when he felt the tapered tip press against his opening, but it turned into a shocked shriek as the wolf forced its way inside in one, unforgiving thrust. The pain of the penetration stole the breath from his lungs and the lycanthrope, whoever he might be, seemed to sense his distress even through the bestial fog of its mind, for it paused and held still, resting its long muzzle against Loki’s shoulder, the warm tongue lapping at his throat.

 

Loki heard the wag of its tail, felt the minute jerks it sent into the creature’s hips where they were pressed against his body. He knew he was not yet fully breached, but it felt like his loins were on fire, the fullness indescribable. And still his cock continued to strain against his belly, even harder than before.

 

Many of his past bedmates hadn’t bothered with Loki’s pleasure, passing out as soon as they were done rutting into him, and he would grow limp as they sought the peak of their own desire.

 

He let out a quiet, incredulous huff of laughter as he realized the wolf-man above him was already succeeding where his past lovers had failed. Surely the gods were playing some cruel joke on his life.

 

The ache of being breached did not disappear, but it had begun to subside enough for the wolf to resume its fucking. Already impatient, its long nails tapped against the ground, the muscles in its arms twitching as the human part of its mind fought to keep the animal in check.

 

“Alright… I-I think you can  _ mo-ooove _ !” The words were barely out of his mouth when the creature gave another powerful thrust, feeding the rest of its girth into Loki’s body.

 

“Gods…” Could he be this full? How could his small body take such a thing? Loki’s hole squeezed around the strange bulge around the root of the wolf’s thick organ as it buried itself to the hilt, panting and snarling low in its throat. Loki’s passage was so slick with the creature’s pre-spend that some of it was forced out with a wet squelch when it finally pulled out. Loki blushed at the lewd sound, but he was glad for the strange lubricant, for he would surely break and tear without it.

 

The beast began to rut into him, no longer holding back as it plunged its tapered cock in and out of Loki’s hole, his rim no doubt pink and swollen where it was stretched around the obscene girth of it. The wolf forced him down until his cheek was pressed against the grassy soil, the position driving his arse even higher, the angle of the penetration sending a new and intense bloom of arousal into his belly.

 

His cock leaked and throbbed, the feel of the creature’s coarse fur and the heady scent of its musk overwhelming. There was no proper rhythm to its thrusts as it drove its prick in and out of Loki’s tender hole, but he had never felt such raw pleasure before, his lust stealing his wits and reducing him into a panting mess. Loki’s lips parted in a stuttering moan and his tongue lolled out against the corner of his mouth as he was bred.

 

“Yes... ! Ah-ah-ah!” His wanton moans only served to encourage the wolf, the muscles in its fur-covered arms bulging and straining as it rutted into Loki like the mindless beast that it was.

 

The small forest around them remained still and quiet, and Loki realized the presence of the Beast must have driven the animals into hiding. The red glow of the moon faded to a dull rust as it began to sink into the horizon, soft purples and pinks of early dawn creeping into the grotto.

 

Loki had expected a creature of such enormous size and prowess to have more stamina, but he felt the wolf shove into him with a powerful thrust until he was buried as deep as Loki’s small body could take him. It huffed and panted as its cock began to twitch and swell in Loki’s passage, the sudden added stretch just beneath his rim sending a jolt of panic into Loki’s lust-addled brain.

 

What was happening? How could the beast grow even larger when he had already been testing Loki’s limits? He tried to withdraw and crawl away from the cage of long, furry limbs, but he was stopped by a sharp set of teeth on his neck. Loki froze as the wolf took his nape between its jaws, the bite either a warning or a sign that Loki had been claimed. He felt the threat of pain in the prick of teeth where they continued to press into his vulnerable skin, but the beast did not sink them deep enough to harm him. A claim, then.

 

Loki forced his muscles to relax and he was rewarded with a wet lick behind his ear. He shuddered at the oddly gentle gesture, but his eyes grew wide when his mind finally caught up with what was happening. There was a warm, wet rush inside his passage as the wolf began to pump its seed into his belly. His own prick had gone soft with the sudden shock of the added stretch, but it began to harden once more as his gut swelled with the creature’s spend. The stretch around his tender hole continued to test his limits, and Loki remained as still as possible when he realized the creature had somehow attached itself into his body where they were joined, the seed filling him kept from spilling.

 

He felt his stomach cramp, but the pulsing flow inside him remained steady. The wolf had released its hold around Loki’s neck and he was free to reach beneath his body. He laid a tentative hand on his stomach and let out a muffled cry of shock at the feel of it, stretched round below his navel with the creature’s spill.

 

He was so full. Full of cock, full of seed, full of his own unfulfilled lust. “Oh, Stendarr, help me, no more! No more!” he begged even as his cock twitched against the round curve of his stomach. He wrapped his fingers around the shaft to stroke himself and his seed landed on the crumpled fern leaves a moment later, the wet spatter of it drowned under the beast’s heavy breaths.

 

Just when Loki was certain he was about to be pushed beyond his limit, the rush of the wolf’s seed slowed down to a trickle, until finally, it was over. Loki lay panting on the ground, his hair full of pine needles and dry leaves. The beast, too, appeared to have exhausted itself, but it was careful not to settle its full weight on Loki’s body as they remained tied to each other.

 

A lone tear rolled down Loki’s cheek, his muscles trembling as the tension in them ebbed away. His eyes were glassy as he stared at the trampled ground around them, surrounded by the wolf’s warm body heat. He was tender all over, but his mouth curved up in a small smile, for he had never felt such an overwhelming, bone-deep satisfaction.

 

The first light of the coming day finally reached the grotto, but the shadows around them were still deep with the lingering darkness. Loki blinked his eyes as he was enveloped in a strange cloud of black smoke. The looming presence above him seemed to shrink a moment later, the stretch around his opening suddenly gone.

 

The beast above him was a beast no more.

 

Loki let out a quiet gasp when he felt a heavy, limp weight slump on his back before the man could stop himself. He groaned when Loki bucked his hips, the sound unmistakably human. Loki managed to roll him off his back and the man landed in the ferns with a heavy thud. Too sore to move, Loki lay on his stomach with his smallclothes tangled around his ankles, his robes still bunched around his hips. He pressed his palm against the soft bulge underneath his navel and squeezed his eyes shut, spots of color rising to his cheeks when he felt the wet trickle of seed between his thighs.

 

His hole was lax and so open it could not close even as Loki tried to clench against the rush of watery seed where it continued to pool on the leaves underneath his body. The stranger beside him let out another grunt and Loki watched him sit up. His blond hair hung around his face, sweaty strands of it clinging to his thick neck and scruffy cheeks. He shook his head as if to clear his mind, stumbling to his feet only to fall into the ferns after one single step.

 

“You fool, you’re injured,” Loki reminded, his voice hoarse. The stranger spun around to face him, as if he was only now becoming aware of Loki’s presence. Loki tried to cover himself, tugging on the hem of his robes when he saw the look of shock in the man’s eyes.

 

He was a Nord, tall and burly, the build of his muscles no less impressive as a man. He appeared confused and still half-feral as he stood there, as naked as he had been in his bestial form. Dirt and leaves clung to his sweaty skin and there was a slash of old scars over his chest, no doubt left there by another lycanthrope. His shoulders stiffened and there was something vulnerable about him as he continued to stare at Loki, his blue eyes wide with what could only be horror.

 

Loki felt his cheeks burn as the man’s gaze wandered over his body, taking in the signs of their rough coupling. His eyes paused on the wet trail of seed where it continued to leak from Loki’s tender hole. He shook his head, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to rediscover his voice.

 

“Forgive me,” he croaked, and Loki could not keep himself from recoiling when the man took a tentative step toward him. He paused the moment he saw Loki’s hesitation and held his hands up in a show of surrender. “I didn’t…” The man’s eyes darted back between Loki’s thighs and he dropped his gaze in shame. “Did I… Did I force myself upon you?”

 

The sudden remorse and shame on the man’s face was jarring to say the least. Loki had been claimed by his bestial form a mere moment ago and now here he was, face to face with a naked stranger, the man’s seed still warming his insides. Gone were the raw aggression and dominance, the violence in the stranger’s blood replaced by human morals and the ability to separate right from wrong once more.

 

“You did not,” Loki said, clearing his throat as he reached down for his smallclothes. “I, uh, I invited you to mount me.” He glanced up and met the man’s eyes, the pained expression on his face relaxing at Loki’s admission.

 

“Oh. Alright.” The man scratched at his neck, visibly awkward, and it was quite obvious no one had been as eager to be rutted by the beast within him as Loki.

 

“You did try to eat me, though,” Loki snapped, the realization deepening the burn of shame on his cheeks.

 

“And for that I apologize… I don’t normally hunt humans, but the Blood Moon, it does something to me, drives the beast within me wild with bloodlust.” The man limped to his side and bent down to offer his hand to Loki.

 

Loki observed the thick veins that snaked around his forearm, only a faint dusting of golden hairs covering his skin. He took the offered hand and allowed the man to pull him up to his feet, doing his best to hide the wince of pain as he became aware of just how sore their coupling had left him. 

 

The man shook his head again, taking in their surroundings. Loki saw him shiver from the cold bite of the morning air, still as naked as a newborn. The bandage he’d wrapped around the man’s injured ankle had loosened after the change, leaving the wounds exposed.

 

“Come,” Loki said, so weary he could barely lift his arm to point at the campsite further in the clearing. “You need to warm yourself up and I must redress your wound.”

 

The man said nothing, but he followed Loki out of the patch of trees and they both limped slowly towards the old campfire. Loki undid his robes and handed them to the man, the tunic he wore underneath his garbs enough to keep him warm. The man gave a grateful nod as he pulled the fine velvet robe over his shoulders, the fabric stretched taut around his bulk.

 

Loki’s magical energies remained depleted from pure shock and exhaustion, but he managed to find enough magicka for a small spark of fire, just enough to conjure a flame for the kindling he’d piled under the dry sticks he’d carried into the firepit.

 

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” the man said as Loki hobbled to his side, sitting down gingerly, his voice laced with shame.

 

Loki took a gentle hold of his leg and lifted it to his lap, the weight of it much lighter than before. “Well, as you can see, I’m not the one who’s in need of bandages.” He began to undo the loosened wrappings around the man’s ankle, careful not to pull on the barely formed scabs. He glanced up, the corner of his mouth dimpling. “I’m just glad you didn’t eat me.”

 

“I wouldn’t!” the man protested, but he fell quiet when he realized his claim was not true. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help it on nights when the moon turns red. I lose myself to the beast and its instincts. I came here last night, because I thought the Daedric presence of Lord Hircine would prevent anyone from entering the grotto and keep me safe from the Silver Hands who hate my kind.”

 

Loki had heard of the Daedric Prince and his connection with werewolves, but he’d not known the grotto was one of their lairs. “I suppose it was foolish of me to venture out during Blood Moon,” Loki admitted, his hands gentle as he secured the bandage around the man’s ankle. “But many alchemy ingredients reach their full potency in the light of such a moon.”

 

“Are you skilled in the art of magic?” the man asked when Loki set his foot down.

 

“Well,” Loki grinned, “I aim to be. But I fear my master does not share my…  _ ambitions _ , so I’m forced to teach myself.” His gaze flicked to the large scars, visible where the robe was too small to stretch over the man’s broad chest. “Are you a lycanthrope by your own choosing or was it forced upon you?”

 

The man chewed on the full curve of his bottom lip and did not meet Loki’s eyes when he answered. “I chose to join the Circle when I was a young man of seventeen summers. I took the beastblood into me willingly, but I know now it was no gift but a curse. I was banished for my beliefs some years ago.”

 

The choice may have been his, but the bitter regret in the man’s voice was unmistakable and Loki could not help but pity him as he observed the bone-deep exhaustion he saw on his face. “Is there no cure?”

 

The man shrugged, his mouth a tight line as he tossed a couple of pinecones into the fire. “If there is, I have yet to come across one. I have no skill with potions or remedies. Such a thing, if it even exists, would surely require the aid of a powerful mage.”

 

Loki had no reason to help this man, no reason to even stay in his company now that the wound had been treated and he was no longer wandering around in naught but his skin. Indeed, the sensible thing would be to return to Falkreath and pretend this night never happened. And still he found himself reaching over to settle his palm on the man’s broad shoulder. “What is your name?”

 

The man lifted his gaze from the fire, the sullen expression on his face softening as he turned his face to meet Loki’s eyes. “I’m Thor,” he said, his smile appropriately wolfish.

 

Loki had no idea if there was a cure or not or if they would ever find it, but having a werewolf at one’s beck and call could definitely come in handy. “Well, Thor, as I said before, I aim to become a powerful mage.” He let his gaze rake over Thor’s well-muscled form, his mouth splitting into a toothy smile when he recognized the familiar hungry glint in Thor’s eyes. “Perhaps you should take me home with you?”

 

“Aye, perhaps I should,” Thor grinned.

 


End file.
